


dreaming of dragons

by winterbitch (WinterLadyy)



Series: sky would dream of dragons [2]
Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: AU of an AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blushing Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Dragon Jaskier | Dandelion, Established Relationship, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Idiots in Love, M/M, POV Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Smitten Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-09-28
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:29:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26700700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WinterLadyy/pseuds/winterbitch
Summary: Sometimes, Geralt is just in awe of his bard, his dragon and those feelings are overwhelming in the best ways. He never thought he could blush but Jaskier is delighting in proving him wrong and Geralt can't even hate it when it makes his dragon smile at him like that.or they get together before they meet yennefer and geralt is very smitten and very blushy. jaskier is...well, a dragon
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Vesemir
Series: sky would dream of dragons [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943038
Comments: 17
Kudos: 500





	dreaming of dragons

**Author's Note:**

> its a prompt i got on tumblr from [ lookoutrogue ](https://lookoutrogue.tumblr.com/) : _*Sneaks in here* Blushy Geralt with dragon!Jaskier?! Maybe he finds out what Jaskier's hoard really is, or he sees Jaskier interacting with his hatchling Ciri or or the first time Jaskier picks him up or protects him or! Well, anything you like really, if you feel up for writing more dragon!Jaskier that is._

At first, Geralt was sure that Jaskier’s secret remained a secret because the bard was so good at keeping it. For all his obnoxiousness, Jaskier is an amazing liar and people rarely realize they’re being fucked over by the bard.

Then he took a moment to actually look at Jaskier and that idea went out of the window. Geralt has to admit defeat now and acknowledge that it may be his own stupidity that allowed Jaskier to parade as a human for so long.

For Jaskier doesn’t really hide his nature from him or his brothers. Geralt’s pretty sure that Vesemir knew from the start and well, sometimes his bard and his father talk for hours about things only they understand and Geralt’s starting to suspect that he’s far from the first Witcher Jaskier met or travelled with.

It doesn’t bother him as much as it should because he trusts the bard and it’s nice to see Vesemir perk up like that, losing some of his grumpiness and tired sadness. Jaskier is good at that.

He’s also apparently good at pretending to be human while also not really trying to hide his less-than-human nature. It’s a conundrum but Geralt is quite determined to figure it out and well, it’s turning out that being a Witcher doesn’t mean he’s all that observant.

The most prominent oddity is the lack of ageing but Geralt is brave enough to admit that he just desperately tried not to think about Jaskier ageing and dying so he refused to look for any signs. Or lack of them actually. Jaskier is as beautiful as he was when they met, and his glamour is quite good because he lost the baby fat in favour of beautiful cheekbones and smooth jawline. 

Geralt isn’t so naive to assume Jaskier really is 40 or whatever. His bard is good at pretending to be flippant and playful but sometimes when they sit by the fire, Geralt can see centuries in his eyes. He’s not a poet and never will be but sometimes Jaskier’s eyes remind him of Vesemir and the horrors he witnessed. Geralt may never know just how old Jaskier is exactly, but he knows he’s older than most assume. 

And yet, somehow he remains happy and bright and sometimes burns too hot but that’s just his nature. Jaskier saw more than all the remaining Witcher combined, experienced horrors they don’t even dream about and yet he’s still soft and kind and gentle. He still believes in good people, saves monsters when he can, tries to help. 

Yennefer thinks it’s a weakness but Geralt knows better. He’s aware just how much strength and power, how much bravery is required to still be kind after getting hurt so many times. Yennefer, his brothers, even Geralt himself decided to protect themselves with gruff exteriors, snappy remarks and power, but Jaskier is still himself, even after everything.

His bard still laughs freely and wears his silly outfits, hiding the gruesome scars underneath. He still sings and plays his lute as if this is what he’s born to do but Geralt knows his calluses are from a sword and his first chosen name was not after a flower.

All of that is humbling. It's humbling and Geralt is in awe whenever he looks at his bard because even a human, Jaskier would be more than song-worthy. Jaskier has a spine of steel and a heart that just keeps on giving, growing back like Prometheus’s liver. Jaskier is amazing.

Just then, his bard sends him a smile and Geralt ducks his head, flushing. Oftentimes he catches himself daydreaming and thinking about Jaskier and whenever he’s caught, he can’t stop himself from blushing. Still, the bard never makes fun of him. 

Jaskier just sends him a small, tender smile and goes back to his notebook, his scent full of happiness and winter, even in the middle of the summer. For some strange reason, Jaskier always smells like winter - clear and cold, a bit biting, like the first snow and a blizzard.

It’s bizarre but also a reason why Geralt likes winter so much, the season they most often spend apart.

“You’re thoughtful tonight, my dear,” Jaskier says finally, putting his notebook down.

Geralt just shrugs but mellows down when his bard pulls at his arm, allowing Jaskier to lay them down, Geralt’s head on his chest. He tilts his head up to tuck his nose into Jaskier’s neck, smiling when it makes Jaskier chuckle.

“My puppy,” Jaskier giggles and Geralt is too smitten to even be angry. “A song for your thoughts?”

The Witcher hides a smile. It’s more than a fair bargain.

“The one about dreams,” he requests.

“Oh, the Dreaming of Dragons?” Jaskier hums, pleased. It’s one of his favourite songs, Geralt knows, and he only signs it when they’re alone or in Kaer Morhen. “Very well, my dear, now out with it!”

Geralt chuckles, turning so that he can look Jaskier in the eyes. “I was thinking about you.”

Jaskier’s smile could light up the world, Geralt’s sure of it.

“How I didn’t notice that you’re...not human.” Geralt blushes slightly when he says it but Jaskier just kisses the tip of his nose. “It’s pretty obvious.”

“People see what they want to see,” Jaskier shrugs finally. “Yes, even you, my dumb loveable idiot. None of that I’m not human’ nonsense, you’re more human than most people I know.”

“You’re the most human person I know,” Geralt counters.

That makes Jaskier laugh and the bard kisses his nose again, snickering when it makes the Witcher blush again.

“Oh, my treasure,” he coos. “I’m really not but I’m honoured you see it like that. I do a lot of non-human things.”

“Oh, I know,” Geraly snorts.

Now that he’s watching it’s impossible not to see how weird Jaskier can be. He doesn’t eat much aside from meat and even Geralt knows it's not exactly healthy. For as long as the Witcher can remember, Jaskier ate mostly meat and mostly meat half-rare in a good case.

Sometimes, Jaskier would sneak a piece of raw meat and devour it when he thought Geralt wasn’t watching and that also should’ve been a big hint.

Unfortunately, Geralt wasn’t thinking about it at the time. He wasn’t thinking much at all at the time, too busy blushing at the sight of Jaskier licking blood off of his lips. Even now the thought sends a spark down his spine and Geralt shivers, eyes closing momentarily.

Jaskier uses that moment to kiss him deeply, sharp fangs nicking at his bottom lip and Geralt moans softly, one hand tanging in Jaskier’s hair. They kiss and kiss and then Geralt is hissing and opening his eyes to watch Jaskier smirking as he licks the blood from his lips.

“Naughty,” Jaskier remarks, eyes dark and full of promises. They tend not to engage in anything too revealing while in the woods but sometimes neither of them can wait.

Geralt just smirks, leaning close again to kiss him again, humming at the taste of blood on his tongue.

“You’re one to talk,” he replies smugly, chuckling when it makes Jaskier flip them around and press Geralt against their bedroll.

“Maybe,” Jaskier agrees. “But we’re not done with our talk.”

“Hmm,” Geralt rumbles. “Aren’t we?” he asks, slipping his hands down into Jaskier breeches.

The dragon hisses, bucking into Geralt’s touch for a second, before Jaskier catches himself and steels his hips, prying Geralt’s hand out with little difficulty.

That alone sends another shiver down Geralt’s spine. Jaskier may play hopeless bard quite well but there’s a lot 

Of physical strength hidden under his colorful doublets. It’s not often that Geralt finds someone who can best him in pure strength but somehow Jaskier is capable of that quite easily. He’s not sure if all dragons are like that or if his lover just enjoys being contrary, but Geralt can’t find it in himself to be upset.

“Someone has a dirty mind,” Jaskier teases again.

Geralt allows himself a chuckle before pulling his bard into another kiss, humming when Jaskier relaxes. “That’s your fault,” he mumbles against Jaskier lips.

The dragon just sends him a bright smile and gently cups his face. “Oh, I will gladly take the blame for that look in your eyes,” Jaskier whispers, his own eyes soft and full of fire.

The Witcher lowers his gaze only for a second before Jaskier is forcing him to look at the bard and Geralt can’t help but blush. It may be embarrassing but Jaskier never makes him feel like it’s wrong to feel and blush and react.

Actually, the bard is always trying his best to make Geralt blush with one sappy and ridiculous comment or another.

Geralt maybe doesn’t mind as much as he should.

It’s hard to mind anything at all when Jaskier is starting to press biting kisses to his neck, sliding down to settle between Geralt’s legs and then there are only heat and Jaskier’s eyes and burning touch.

Even the next morning Jaskier manages to make him blush, just by trailing his lips over the marks left on Geralt’s skin, marks that won’t fade for quite some time. Geralt tries not to duck his head when Jaskier smiles at him and gets a kiss as a reward.

They continue, always moving, always exploring. Geralt is vaguely aware that isn’t exactly a normal dragon behaviour but he still has trouble asking when he’s curious. He doesn’t have to ask now though, because Jaskier is stopping by a small stream and looking down into the water.

“Geralt! Come and see this amazing rock I found!: his dragon yells in excitement and Geralt smiles fondly, coming to stand by his side. Jaskier is pressing a smooth rock into his hands, deep amber with flecks of black and white veins. “Isn’t it absolutely gorgeous? Looks a bit like you, my dear, all golden and white and black and oh, I could-”

The Witcher cuts him off with a small kiss if only to allow the dragon to cool down slightly before he works himself up into a frenzy. It’s happened before and Geralt knows that Jaskier hates it.

“It’s pretty,” he agrees simply, flushing when Jaskier kisses his check. Such simple shows of affection still get to him.

“Thank you, dear heart. It’s not often that I find something that I just must take into my hoard but well, a dragon is a dragon, right? I still have my instincts even if my hoard is quite unconventional.”

That makes Geralt perk up. “What’s your hoard then?” He’s not sure if one can just ask that, if that’s allowed in the dragon world but Jaskier is Jaskier and if he doesn’t want to answer, he just won’t.

His bard looks at him with a small smile and barely visible blush. “Well, my songs obviously, which is why I almost tore Valdo Marx to pieces when he stole one,” he snarls, before calming again. “Some trinkets that I can’t part with, like the necklace from that old witch in the mountains, a few pressed flowers, a rock from the end of the world, lute strings from my first lute… Though you Witchers are the biggest part of my hoard, I have to admit.”

The world stops.

Geralt’s not even sure why he’s so surprised but he never really expected it. Dragon’s hoard is precious and treasured, one of the few things dragons would give their lives for. A dragon’s hoard is the most important part of their lives, next to their mate and hatchling. Jaskier only met Lambert and Eskel last winter, it’s almost impossible for the dragon to get attached that quickly but…

The Witcher looks at his lover who’s gazing at him with wide blue eyes, smiling softly. Jaskier is capable of great violence but he has the most capacity for love Geralt has ever seen or heard in a person. Jaskier’s heart is big and full of love and music and maybe it’s not that surprising that his bard just...considers the Witchers his treasure now.

“Geralt?” Jaskier asks quietly, one hand cupping the Witcher’s face.

He just sighs and nuzzles into his palm, knowing Jaskier can both see and feel his face burning. For once, Geralt doesn’t care because his dragon is the most amazing person Geralt has ever seen and he deserves to see exactly what he’s doing to the Witcher.

“Ridiculous,” Geralt snarls, sharp teeth nipping at Jaskier’s skin. “We’ll hurt you.”

“Probably,” Jaskier agrees easily. “Just as I’ll hurt all of you in some way. That’s how it works, beloved, we go around hurting each other and then soothing that hurt, kissing the bruises away.”

Geralt rolls his eyes at his lover's poetry but can’t help his smile. Jaskier traces his lips with his tongue and then they’re lost in each other again, Jaskier’s pretty rock clutched in his hand.

Still, the wonder and awe don’t leave the Witcher for days afterwards. He’s not sure if the others know just how treasured they are but he has a sneaking suspicion that Vesemir is very much aware of everything. The hugs and gentle touches with Jaskier give it out a bit.

It’s a wonderful feeling, knowing that someone loves not only him but his whole family so much. Jaskier saw them, their broken edges and sharp points and accepted them without question, without fear. Of course he has nothing to fear, he could level their whole keep to the ground with a few moves, but Jaskier’s easy acceptance means a lot.

Geralt isn’t naive enough to think Jaskier isn’t damaged but his wounds are from fire and falls, broken bones healed not-quite-right, scars that run deeper than muscle, shouts half-formed on his tongue when he wakes up from nightmares.

He knows enough to be in even more awe of his dragon.

Yennefer can think he’s weak all she wants, she can ignore and insult him, Geralt doesn’t care. Jaskier assured him that he doesn’t mind her attitude and the Witcher just doesn’t get in the middle of their spats, but he still thinks Yennefer is very blind.

Even when he thought the bard human, Geralt knew of the hidden strength in his best friend. Yennefer sees what she wants to see and Jaskier gleefully lets her, probably already planning the big reveal.

Geralt leaves them to their little games and hides his smirks when Yennefer comments harshly on Jaskier’s easy smiles and gentle soul.

He will never sell Jaskier’s secrets without his bard’s permission and he has to admit that it is a bit amusing, seeing how many people the dragon can blind.

It’s never more noticeable than during court performances and it’s one of the only reasons Geralt even bothers coming when Jaskier asks. The other is that he just physically cannot refuse his lover anything and his annoying dragon is starting to catch up on that. 

They don’t visit any courts too often but from time to time Jaskier will insist and then they’re stuck in a castle for a few days but the beds are always big and soft and they eat well. Geralt can deal with people for a few days of Jaskier’s pleasure and opportunities to use every available soft surface to make each other scream.

The other good thing is Jaskier’s clothes and well, Geralt is no poet but he can write ballads about his lover’s clothes in those situations. The bard is always dressed expensively and with the newest fashion but when he’s performing at court, everything gets even more grand and beautiful. In those moments his dragon looks more like treasure himself and that’s enough to make Geralt daydream about peeling the clothes away the whole evening.

He’s sure he saw every expensive costume there is to see but then they’re invited to a wedding and it’s not because Jaskier is Jaskier but because Jaskier is Julian Alfred Pankratz Viscount the Lettenhove.

“See, I’m not really him, of course, but my name was Julian for quite some time and then the last Pankratz owed me his life and also his husband’s life and he appointed me heir because why not. I’m forever young and I don’t need heirs, at least until I get bored,” Jaskier explains as they’re bathing. “People of Lettenhove don’t really mind that I’m immortal and they don’t mind their land being mostly governed by a council of trusted advisors. Of course, I visit from time to time and I’m in constant contact with the council, but for the most part, it’s beneficial for everyone.”

Geralt shakes his head and kisses Jaskier’s neck. “I suppose you enjoy the riches,” he comments dryly.

Jaskier gasps in playful outrage but doesn’t deny it, even if they both know he’s not exactly a glutton for riches. The bard enjoys scented oils, expensive doublets and finest wine but he can and will go without it when adventure awaits.

They both have wanderlust in their blood.

“I enjoy being invited to courts just to sit there, eat and enjoy the gossip without working,” Jaskier corrects him with a disarming smile, head tilted back to lean against Geralt’s shoulder. “I also enjoy dressing up because I may dress quite nicely as a bard, nothing is better than nobleman’s clothes when I want to feel pretty. It is a whole different world of clothes, finer fabrics, different cuts, accessories…”

Geralt rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything. He’ll never understand Jaskier’s obsession with clothes but he accepts it as part of his bard’s character. He also enjoys peeling it all off, layer by layer, at the end of the evening. 

Wisely, the Witcher leaves his lover to get ready and just shrugs on his better clothes, silky and black. Jaskier took care of his more formal attire when they finally got together and Geralt can’t exactly complain when the clothes are black and allow decent movement. 

His hair is already washed and braided, adorned with Jaskier’s pretty golden stone that the dragon had made into a pin. 

For once, Geralt feels more ready to meet the noblemen of the Continent so he walks down the stairs and waits there, hiding in the shadows. He doesn’t want to socialise with anyone or even stand next to other people so he finds himself a nook with a good view of the stars and settles in to wait however long it takes Jaskier to get dressed.

He doesn't notice time passing by, observing people around them, making sure there’s no obvious danger. Geralt’s sure someone will be either poisoned or at least stabbed before morning comes but that's just how noble people do things. Then, he’s torn from his musings by the scent of his lover.

Geralt turns to face the stairs and promptly forgets how to breathe. He’s almost sure his jaw is somewhere around his knees but he doesn’t care because Jaskier is currently walking down the stairs looking like _that_.

Dark blue doublet and matching breeches, tucked into gleaming black boots, a rapier hanging from his waist, the sheath adorned with the same gold that’s embroidered into the doublet. For once, there are no puffy sleeves and slimming cut - this one is made to accentuate Jaskier’s broad shoulders, his tapered waist, strong thighs straining against the fabric of his pants. The most impressive is his cape - one-shouldered, dark red that shifts into purplish-blue, the exact color of his scales, iridescent.

Geralt stands there, waiting for his dragon, heart hammering as much as it can. His palms are sweaty and he’s pretty sure that the ground is moving. He feels like a love-sick boy but Jaskier’s smile makes it all worth it.

“Beloved,” Jaskier says softly, coming to stand in front of him, tugging Geralt out of the shadows. “Approve?”

“Uhh,” is all Geralt can manage. “You’re… Well-”

Jaskier’s smile turns into a smirk as he watches the Witcher struggle to form words. On a good day, Geralt isn’t a wordsmith but it feels as if Jaskier just stole everything from his brain and then turned it off for a good measure.

“Gorgeous,” he finally breathes, blushing furiously but keeping eye contact with his dragon. Jaskier smiles widely, sharp fangs peeking between his full lips. “Breathtaking.”

His bard makes a small sound and tugs Geralt into a kiss, then presses smaller kisses to his red cheeks, hands gentle with a hint of claws through his gloves. Geralt just melts into his lover, uncaring about other people or his reputation or even the redness on his face.

All that matters is Jaskier and his overwhelming beauty, his shining love.

**Author's Note:**

> its an au for my au because i like that verse and i wanted to write more in it!


End file.
